Sie Liebt Dich
by Obskura
Summary: "She loves you"? It's more like OBSESSED with you! This is what happens when Belarus takes a bad hit to the head courtesy of Italy. T for suggestive themes.
1. Insanity Starts!

...

It was such a seemingly simple, harmless accident. No one ever thought the outcome would be so...unhinging. Yet it was and it was disturbing the peace amongst everyone, one in particluar.

The whole thing started out innocently enough; Italy being Italy and all. Sometimes clueless, the damn fool would have an accident once or twice a day. Unfortunate Japan would get caught up in his mishaps as well, the ever tough-as-nails Germany yelling himself hoarse at the pair. As usual, he was trying to make them better soliders in combat, or at least do _something_ right. Never did they flourish; Japan would amaze in the darkest of moments when Germany would think of having a final beer and pulling out his Luger and ending it all. At least there were differences in the two, at least he'd made a difference. That was enough to help him sleep at night.

Today, things were as normal as they should be. Then Germany made Italy run a few laps. Well actually...Germany was chasing and screaming at him. He'd been on edge since the night before when the pasta-loving fruitcake came running into his room crying about a horrifying nightmare. The poor little lad only had to mention pasta just once before the blonde man's nerves finally snapped and was after his blood. Half-scared by the German already, the younger man was quick to dash away from his violent swipes. Japan could do nothing but stand and watch, all the while trying to make friendly conversation with a nervous Russia. When asked about his odd behavior, Russia had replied that his twisted younger sister, Belarus, was stalking him again. This was an ongoing problem for the taller man, and Japan couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"That's unfortunate, Russia," he replied.

"Indeed. I just hope she doesn't find me here in your area..." the Russian nodded with a nervous sweep of his eyes.

As for Italy, he was so frantic he wasn't paying attention to where he was running. Germany was a fast runner, and he was only feet away from a particularly hurtful tackle. All the while running he was cursing at Italy in his native language.

"I'm sorry, Germany!" the smaller man wailed. "I'm sorry, I'll be-"

WHAM!

Italy had ran head-on into something solid. For a second, he saw a bright, glowing door before Germany's angry face came into view. He felt Germany's iron grip around his shirt collar, and began to be scolded. Russia and Japan were in view as they came over a hill. America, England, and France were soon on the spot as well.

"I don't know what you're saying!" Italy cried at his mentor whom was still scolding him in German.

"Look at vat you did, Italy!" Germany switched fluidly to English. "You crashed right into _fraulein_ Belarus!"

Russia took cover behind France as America and England helped a dazed Belarus up from the ground.

"Vat do you say?" Germany barked at Italy.

Belarus's eyes were still focusing as Italy apologized numerous times at her. As they went uncrossed and cleared up, her eyes fell upon Germany. Blonde, blue-eyed, and powerful; he was the definition of beauty. Even as he was yelling at someone, he was still quite a piece of eye candy with those glaring pools of ocean blue. And his Wehrmacht uniform didn't help matters. She had to quickly wipe away the bit of saliva leaking from her mouth.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Italy cried at her.

"Enough of seh crying! You look pasetic!" Germany ordered then, "My apologies as vell, _fraulein_."

With that, Germany left with Japan and a still sniffling Italy. The Allies, who'd been snickering madly to themselves throughout the whole ordeal, fell silent as the intimidating blonde came passed them.

"Wow, another impressive display of the German temper, gents!" America announced when the Axis men were gone.

"I'll say..." France muttered.

Belarus, who'd been rooted to the spot and staring after Germany, said, "He's wonderful isn't he?"

There was a collective cry from the Allies of "WHAT?"

"Wonderful?" England exclaimed. "He's big-"

"And macho-" Russia blurted.

"And bossy-" cut in America.

"And scary!" France finished.

Belarus only sighed with infatuation, forgetting all about Russia. The hit on her head had definately left some damage. All she could think -or fantasize- about was Germany. She had to have him.

"S-sister, are you o-okay?" he stammered, walking over to her.

"Go away, you," she waved her hand at Russia. "I want Germany!"

As if in a trance, Belarus tramped away, heading for Germany's house.

America, England, and France all gasped. Belarus had quit obsessing over her big brother and had gone on to the more intimidating Germany. Russia was at a loss for words; he didn't know whether to be happy or worried about his sister's new obsession. Knowing how Germany was, this could not be good.


	2. The Bed Intruder

**A/N**: An update! What trickery is this?

...

_Bed_. The wonderful three-lettered word was all Germany could think of. Another harsh day with Italy, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He knocked back a few beers, bade everyone good night, showered, and bee-lined to his room. Prussia's drunken cries echoed as Germany closed his bedroom door and fell upon the cloud next to the window. The most he managed to do was wrap himself in the covers before falling into a deep sleep. Now the Allies were doing his bidding as he sat and watched. Russia had the most difficult chores and if he slipped up, a swift kick in the ass got him going again. Germany had the world in his hands, and they were all sorry that they ever messed with him...

Something was crawling on his exposed arm. Instinctively he went to smack it, but whatever it was gripped his hand. Groggily, he turned over to see someone lying next to him. He could barely keep his blue eyes open.

"Oh, it's you, _Fraulein _Belarus," he mumbled as he turned back on his other side and closed his eyes.

A shock went down his spine and his eyes shot open.

...

"Ooooh c'moon, just one drinkk, Stuffy!" Prussia drawled at Austria.

"No thank you," the other man said tensely. "And I'm_ not_ stuffy!"

Despite his younger brother going to bed, Prussia kept the party going with the other countries, such as Italy, Bulgaria, and Czechoslovakia, and irritable France, whom Germany had recently overpowered and brought into his custody. Prussia had been just about to force a drink down Austria's throat when the unmistakable cry of his brother rang down the hall.

"I'm coming, _Bruder_!" Prussia clumsily ran down the hall with Italy as the others watched in confusion.

Italy eventually had to half-carry Prussia as he was far too intoxicated to run on his own any more, and opened Germany's bedroom door with some difficulty. The scene his rescuers came to was Germany sitting upright against the headboard, holding Belarus at arm's length as she tried to get at him. His facial expression was that of complete and utter terror. Belarus insisted, as she used to with Russia, to become one with Germany.

"Alriiight, get some, bro!" Prussia cheered.

"GET HER AVAY FROM ME!" Germany shouted back, then shouting an order louder to any soldiers nearby to get rid of the friend of the Allies.

"Germaaaaany!" Italy sprang into action, leaping at the offender as ten German soldiers busted into the room. Italy and the soldiers managed to get her off of Germany, who was having a panic attack of sorts, and began to drag her out of the space.

"I'll be back, my love!" she said as she disappeared from view.

Once she'd gone and everything had died down (everyone had to leave, as the house went into lock down), Italy began pestering Germany with his concern. Much further to Germany's embarrassment, Austria had come in and began lecturing him on "proper courting" of women, France laughed at the situation ("Yew a'e a p'ude!"), and Prussia...well, he was too drunk to fully grasp or remember what had just happened. He's just that awesome, mind you.

"I'm _fine_!" Germany snapped at Italy, buttoning up his uniform jacket and looking himself over in the mirror. "How'd she get in, anyway?"

"Probably a window," Austria answered. "Which reminds me, anymore..._ladies_ of yours that come around here need to use a door, that's what they're for! It looks tacky with them-"

"Germany's not like that, Mr. Austria!" Italy interjected.

Germany rubbed his temples, head aching from all the noise. Very rarely did he have a bad night like this, even when he was up late throwing up after drinking too much. Even then those nights were much more pleasant compared to this one! Belarus, Russia's _sister_, trying to get at him? Clearly this was a crock pot plan to try and get Germany to slip, right? No, that plan was far to stupid to be Russia's unfortunately. It had to have come from America. Yes, it seemed to be something he'd do, but how to prove it? Tomorrow he'd ask them, no _demand_, why they ever thought something as stupid as having Belarus infiltrate his house would stop him from conquering everything. Until then, he was going to be on guard all night with little cat naps in between. Of course little worried Italy would be with him the entire time.

"I've got stuff to do, so _auf wiedersehen_!" Germany snatched his rifle from his bedside and shooed everyone out of his room.

"An all-nighter! How fun is thisa gonna be?" Italy said as he walked down the hall with his friend and Prussia, whom was leaning on his brother for support.

"Sis is strictly business," the blonde reminded him.

Even if it was just serious business, Italy couldn't help but burst with excitement. He waited outside Prussia's bedroom as Germany carried him in and helped him into bed. He would've helped him into pajamas, but the older brother was being far too obnoxious for Germany's nerves to try. He couldn't understand what Prussia was saying he was slurring too much, but the bone-crushing hugs and "playful" arm slugs were enough. Germany had thrown a pillow over his face, but this proved to be dangerous as Prussia yelped that he couldn't breathe and he was being sucked into a dark abyss and fussed even more. Finally, after the drunken brotherly battle and a glass of water to help Prussia sober up a bit, Germany was finally able to bade him good night and leave.

"OH! Hey bro!" Prussia called, making Germany wince in the doorway.

"Vhat_ now_?"

"I think Belarus broke in!"

Germany smacked his forehead in frustration.


	3. The Curse of Belarus

**A/N: Setting this story up differently, so sorry for any confusion! It'll work out with what I have in mind, promise :D  
**

**...**

"Well! Now that the dead weight's gone, we've been doing better!" England exclaimed during an -honestly- successful Allied meeting.

"B-but France had his uses," America said, trying to be positive about the loss of France.

"Oh, please! He's just as bad as Italy when it comes to war," scoffed the Brit. "What are you doing here anyway? You're not anywhere involved in this war!"

Being caught completely off-guard, America struggled for an answer, shoving a burger into his mouth for time.

"Not yet, anyway...hehe."

The Allies stared at Russia, whom had his usual smile, but a creepy glint in his violet eyes. They all chose to simply nod and ignore what he said. He was rumored to be mentally unhinged to begin with. But back to America's being at the meeting despite his not being involved in the war.

**..**

_History time! At the time when World War II began, America had decided to stay out if it. Or any conflict for that matter. Meaning that he had adopted the idea of _Isolationism_ (despite some curiosity of what exactly was happening). Which was completely abnormal, being how he liked to get into the other countries' business. America was aware of Germany's growing power, but was like, "Eh, not my problem, that's their tiff." (Even with the influx of people fleeing from Europe to escape the German machine.) After so many people had come in, America closed its borders, not being able to accept anymore Europeans. Some Americans wanted to get involved in the war, but the government overruled it and continued with their merry lives and fat food. Things would change in 1941, but lets save that for another time, shall we? So just for the time being, he was snooping.  
_

**..**

As America began to answer, the conference room doors flew open. A very strong, and very angry-looking Germany barged into the room and over to the big table, stopping shortly across from Russia. The Russian's friendly expression had an underlying hostility to it as he stared back into the intense blue orbs of Germany. The others in the room were momentarily stunned.

"Do you sink I'm an idiot?" Germany roared. "Sending that nut-job sister of yours to my place to try and get information, real original, Ruskie!"

"What the devil are you on about?" England demanded. "And how did you get in?"

"I'm goddamned Germany. There's ways," the German snapped back. Little did England know the building had a huge, smoking hole where a tank had blasted through the floor below. And exactly how did Germany know where the meeting was being held? Who knows? Maybe he had Spidey Sense...or the predatory instincts of a pissed off lion.

"Sorry, but I didn't send my seester after you..." Russia said, getting Germany's attention back.

Germany glared, not being fooled for a moment. He was lying, that's what Russians did. There was no other explanation for Belarus's following him home and sneaking into his room. The Allies weren't necessarily the sneakiest bunch or geniuses after all.

"Oh really?" Germany asked in a mocking tone.

"_Da_, really," came an honest answer from Russia.

"What seh hell sen? I have an army out sere waiting to blast you all..."

To be honest, Germany was a little disappointed. He'd really been looking forward to attacking them after discovering it _was_ the Allies who'd told Belarus to follow him. So, to be polite, he took his visor cap off, sat down, and asked what had been the true cause for the invasion. Of course he had a hand hovering over his pistol in his pocket the entire time; couldn't let his guard down fully. Russia replied with that the source was the Curse of Belarus.

"What?" had been everyone's reply.

"De Curse of Belarus," Russia repeated. "Understand that Belarus is a force all her own. She goes from one obsession to another, and it's impossible to shake her once she's locked onto someone. She'll stop at nothing to 'become one' with whomever she wants. That would be you."

"Me? Vhy?" Germany asked firmly.

"I don't know. There could be many reasons; power, lust, maybe a strike in de head..."

"Haha! Dude, Germany's totally stuck with a psycho!" America laughed, then stopped when Germany began cracking his gloved knuckles.

"Not for long," he replied.

A strong force slammed & held Germany's hands onto the table, causing him to look up in alarm. Russia had a creepy look on his face, with an aura to match. Germany wasn't fazed by it; he worked for a psychopath to begin with. Everyone else cowered behind China (who's been completely silent the entire time, but was whimpering along with England and America as the tension grew in the room). At that moment, Bulgaria, Italy, and Prussia appeared in the doorway. Once they saw the death glares between Russia and Germany, any questions or jokes they had disappeared. For once, Prussia looked serious, and was readying himself to break up any fights that might happen.

"I don't think so," Russia said in a low voice.

"I do," Germany replied, "I much prefer Ukraine."

"_Excuse me_?"

"Ukraine hasn't been spared in my winning streak," a smirk appeared on Germany's face. "What a body she has! A little bit of an Aryan touch can fix what's-"

He had to duck, for Russia took a swing at him, leaving him open for Germany to strike back and knock him back in a chair. Germany tore off his jacket, revealing a dress shirt underneath. Russia followed suit and pulled off his scarf and coat and throwing it to the ground. He flexed his fists, waiting.

"Come at me, bro!" Germany baited.

Russia tackled and, in typical cartoon fashion, a dust cloud appeared over the fighting pair. Here and there, limbs were visible and shouts rang off the walls. Both Allied and Axis members cheered for their rightful person, almost getting into scuffles amongst themselves. After a few minutes, Prussia decided the fight needed to be called off as blood spots began to appear on the floor. It took every person from both sides to break apart Russia and Germany. The latter had the last hit, catching Russia off balance and falling over on top of the Allies. Germany continued to shout and tease, feeling rather victorious and dying for a second round.

"You just got Blitzkrieged, _Arschloch_!" he yelled over the noise of the Allies, struggling to break lose of the Axis packing him off. "You can't stop me! None of you! _Dein leben ist gefickt!_"

"Germany, you're-a freaking me out-a!" wailed Italy as he saw the wild look in his friend's face.

Germany's uncharacteristic outbursts continued to echo into the room until the Axis had managed to get him inside their tank and chug away. The Allies were able to get out from underneath Russia's giant frame and help him up together. He was dazed for a moment, eyes out of focus. Germany had been a lot stronger than he had remembered, and that last punch didn't feel to good. He was also a lot more cocky. As Russia's head cleared, so did America's yelps of excitement and China's face peering into his as he checked the Russian's eyes.

"The Curse of Belarus, huh?" England sighed, taking out a napkin and wiping Russia's face. "Seems to have rubbed off on the Kraut if I do say so..."

"What happens next should be interesting, comrades," Russia replied.


	4. Scarred, in More Ways Than One

**...**

"Quite a temper you got, _Bruder_," Prussia grumbled as he iced his eye.

"I'm sorry," Germany apologized for the twentieth time.

If Germany really wanted to, he could pursue a career in boxing if the whole -taking-over-the-world thing didn't go as planned. Prussia, Italy, and Bulgaria were tending to bruises and cuts inflicted by Germany when they carried him away from the fight with Russia. Italy sat as far away from his friend as possible, Bulgaria trying to convince the teary-eyed young Italian that Germany wouldn't hurt him anymore. Germany, he was saying, had been in a giant, typical German rage, and when that happens, _everyone_ feels it. This helped some, but any sigh or movement Germany made, Italy still jumped.

Russia could also pack a good punch, the German noted. He hoped one day to never be cornered by the Russian in some totally off chance the war didn't go in his favor. That wouldn't feel very good, nor would Germany have a face after the pummeling. He forced the thoughts out of his mind; there were more important matters at hand. Not the cuts or bruises, either.

"Vhat am I going to do about Belarus?" Germany groaned, careful of where he put his palms on his face.

"You humped Ukraine, vhy not her too, eh?" Prussia gently nudged his brother's ribs.

Austria snort his disapproval at the older brother's choice of words, sipped his tea, and continued reading. France, who was cleaning the entire house (and everyone else's whom was under Germany's control), began laughing his obnoxious laugh.

"_Did I say you can stop_?" Germany snapped, glaring malevolently.

France squeaked and began cleaning fiercely. He was done within seconds, and sped out of the kitchen to do the dining room. The fast he got away from Germany, the better. He'd also felt the German's wrath not too long ago and wished to not repeat it. France teared up as he touched his left eye, which had a healing bruise on it. _He ruined my gorgeous face, that brute...!_

"Your temper will only get you so far," Austria snapped.

Before Germany could retort, Belgium, another country Germany had claimed, came into the kitchen.

"Oh! Germany, vhat happened?" she breathed as she looked at him, then at the other three. "Vhat...?"

"Nussing, just-"

"My little bro here kicked that Ruskie's ass!" Prussia swelled with pride, clapping his brother on the back. This act caused him to get slugged by said little brother in retaliation of the pain that shot across his back.

Belgium raised an eyebrow before coming over to the table, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Germany.

"Is it safe to assume it vas your brother who taught you to clean up cuts?" she scoffed at his wash cloth damp with only water.

"Yup!"

She tutted Prussia before disappearing. Germany looked at his brother, confused. Belgium reappeared with cotton balls and a bottle of antiseptic cleaner. She set the items down on the table and sat back down.

"This is how you _properly_ clean wounds," she said sternly. She made to pick up a little ball.

"I can do it-" Germany mumbled.

Their hands touched and their locked locked onto each other. Both pulled back and blushed many shades of pink. Belgium stammered quietly that she'll tent to his wounds. Her hands trembled as she set to work, still embarrassed. Germany looked everywhere else but in her direction, his face blank. Austria peered over his paper and grinned slightly. He cleared his throat as he stood up folding his paper. When no one replied he did it again, only louder, as he exited the kitchen. Only then did Prussia get the message.

"O-oh! Who vants to play some football?" he said loudly. "I can totally kick all of your asses!"

"I wanna play!" Italy shot up, knocking over his chair in excitement. Bulgaria had already ran outside, along with Czechoslovakia and Norway (another country Germany had overpowered). Prussia raced around Italy, a soccer ball appearing out of thin air in his hands.

"What abouta Germany?" Italy hesitated for a second as he followed.

"He's busy; he'll join us later!" Prussia kicked the ball at his friend, who forgot about his friend and chased after the ball with everyone. Spain leapt into view as he somehow heard of a football game going on, dragging an indifferent Romano behind him.

**...**

Thirty minutes after the game started, Germany walked out of his house with Belgium, face sore but clean. He really had no interest in joining the game-turned-all-out-battle. Prussia and Spain's tempers were flaring as they accused the other of cheating, getting in each other's face and shoving. Behind them the soccer game became dodge ball. Really, really brutal dodge ball.

"Uuh..we're going out for a couple of drinks, _Bruder_," Germany said, ducking out of the way as the ball flew in his direction.

"Cool," Prussia said, not taking his eyes off Spain. "_What did you call me...?_"

Germany and Belgium left at the right moment, for more soccer-Bludgers whizzing everywhere independently, looking for victims. How were there magical Quidditch balls in this setting? It's one of life's greatest mysteries. There's a little wizard in us all. Our Hogwarts letters just never came...-sniff-

**After more than a "couple of drinks" later:**

Germany and Belgium stumbled into the dark, silent house. He'd somehow managed to keep the door still to put the key in and open it. She giggled at his clumsiness, and he shushed her, the scent of beer very strong. The furthest the pair got was into the living room before Belgium tripped and fell. Germany tried grabbing her, but lost his balance and tumbled as well. Luckily there was a couch, but this posed another problem. Both blushed furiously like they'd done earlier, only this time Belgium recovered, wrapped her arm around his neck, and kissed him. Germany was shocked for a second but returned the kiss. When things started to get hot n' heavy, Germany broke their embrace.

"What?" Belgium asked.

"People sit here..." came Germany's realization.

Even drunk, he had some sense. He picked her up, and sprinted up to his room where he threw her on the bed and continued where they had stopped.

Some fifteen minutes later, Italy had just wished his brother and Spain good night, as they were the last people to get pissed off and quit the soccer game. After everyone had left and it was just them, it was a peaceful game. But now it was time for bed. Italy closed the back door as quietly as he could and began to tip-toe upstairs to Germany's room. He heard some racket but thought nothing of it. Then he opened the door and a sight meet him.

Eyes wide open, he closed it once more having not even stepped in.  
There are just some things you can't unsee.


	5. Cheater, Cheater, Potato Eater

**A/N: Been listening to old-school gangsta rap, and it's very difficult not making everyone talk in ebonics in this chapter, or have a ghetto setting...ain't nuthin' but a G thang, can't help it! Haha**

**...**

Germany's aching head is what woke him from his deep slumber. Well, that and the nauseating scent of breakfast. God, what a horrible smell it was! He also took note on how sore he seemed to be as he pulled the covers over his head. He had some recollection of the previous nights events, and Belgium kept coming to mind. Under the semi-darkness of the blankets, Germany found it safe to open his eyes. Indeed Belgium was with him, a small surprise being as it was normally Italy whom would be taking up half the space. She only took a up a respectable portion, and was naked all except for a pair of panties. Germany also noticed a pair of handcuffs locked on the bars of the bed above Belgium. He blinked a couple of times.

_Oh, so _that's_ what happened last night,_ he thought to himself. Braving the light, the young German sat up and stretched. Belgium began to stir and opened her eyes. It took her a few moments for everything to register. Then she looked at Germany.

"Um, wow," she chuckled, blushing a pretty pink.

He gave her one of his shirts to put on as he offered to wash her clothes, and have France repair any buttons that he might have broken the night before. She accepted and slipped the shirt on. Belgium sat on the bed as Germany put on fresh pajamas, rubbing her head and sore spots. Then she noticed something.

"Do you know where my bra is?" she asked.

"It's not on seh floor?" Germany looked around on the floor.

"Nope," the young girl replied. "Oh well, it'll turn up."

Once downstairs, they were greeted by one of Prussia's loud greetings, further worsening their headaches. He pranced around the kitchen, fixing them bowls of soup and plain buttered noodles and forcing it under their noses and insisted they eat something. In typical fashion, he made inappropriate comments about Germany Belgium, causing the younger brother to fling a spoonful of hot soup at him in a flare of anger. The albino took it in stride, as it seemed to be a normal occurrence for Germany to lose his temper throughout the day. After cleaning off his burned arm, Prussia sat down with a cup of coffee and tried his best to be dignified. Austria entered the room shortly with something in his hand.

"Does sis belong to you?" he asked Belgium sharply, holding what was unmistakably a bra.

"Oh, yes!" she blushed before snatching it back.

"Keep your personal items and business off the couch! How many times must I tell you! As a matter of fact, I shouldn't have to!" Austria fumed.

"Sis isn't your house," Germany said loudly.

"But it's my business if it keeps me up all night! Have some courtesy if you're going to be doing sat! And you'll need make-up to cover those up, dear," the angry Austrian added to Belgium, whom pulled the shirt up the best she could to hide the bruises around her neck.

As Germany went to argue back, his brother slurped his coffee obnoxiously. Germany and Austria glared at him; slurping noises drove them nuts. Prussia took no notice of them staring and continued about his business.

"Your family's funny," Belgium laughed, touching Germany's arm.

"Sen you should come over more! Loosen my bro's muscles and release some tension, _ja_?" Prussia winked.

At that moment, Italy walked in, but refused to look in Germany & Belgium's direction. Instead he sat down by Austria as Prussia sprang up to get him some noodles.

"_Guten morgen_, Italy," Germany said.

"H-hi," Italy kept his eyes on the table. Once Prussia handed him a bowl, he said quietly, "Grazie. I-I'm going to-a eat in the living room..."

Germany and Belgium and Prussia looked at each other, confused.

"What's his deal? He's usually a ray of fucking sunshine," Prussia scratched his head.

"He saw the warlord here and Belgium having relations," Austria replied, picking up the news paper.

At this, Prussia spat out the sip of coffee he'd just had and began choking and laughing insanely. The two blondes at the table sank in their chairs, feeling guilty at having forgotten to lock the door. Germany ended up going over to his brother and smacking his back sharply to help him get over his choking since he began turning a bright red. Prussia got over it, but would burst into a fit of giggles if he looked at Germany or Belgium. Officially irritated, Germany asked what time it was.

"Fifteen minutes after eight," Austria answered.

"_SCHEISSE_!" Germany shouted. "We're late for a meeting!"

With that, he forced his brother up and bolted upstairs to shower as Prussia slinked off to his room.

"Would it be alright if I-?"

"Yes, but use my shower instead," Austria replied before Belgium finished. She blushed once more, then left. She passed by the living room and saw Italy eating slowly, staring at a wall. Was it really that bad?

**...**

Germany had finished getting ready just as Prussia was getting into the shower. Not having anytime to scold his brother, the blonde ran out the door and onto a motorcycle. He didn't notice a certain person watching him as he sped off to the city. It was only at a stop light did he notice.

"Oh, _Gott_, not you..." he whined as Belarus pulled up next to him on a bicycle.

"You cheated on me, with _her_?" she growled.

"How did-? Cheat? I don't even like you!" Germany snapped.

"_LOVE MEEEE_!"

Luck was on Germany's side this morning, for the light turned green right as Belarus launched herself at him. He thought morbidly of running her over, but decided against it. He drive erratically in hopes that she wouldn't be able to keep up and follow him. She did lose his trail, but was bound and determined to find her precious Germany and become one with him. Belarus had a list of places he frequented and was now trying to guess which location he'd be later on that day.

He wasn't scolded too badly for being late, but Prussia really got ripped in to. He had been an hour late with no excuse. Once the brothers left, Prussia decided to go to the bar; Germany more than willingly joined him. Other Germans greeted them heartily and they all began to get their party on. At two in the afternoon. Oh well, it's five o'clock somewhere! After a few beers, Germany excused himself to use the restroom. As he walked down the hall full of pictures of the bar's history and famous patrons, something in the dark corner by the restroom doors caught his eye. Panic coursed through him.

"_Mein Gott_, go avay!" he yelled as Belarus jumped out at him. He ran into the bathroom and locked the door, throwing himself in front of it for good measure.

"Open the door!" Belarus screamed. "We must become one!"

A German soldier peered from the urinals curiously. Great, just what Germany needed. The young man finished, washed his hands, and approached Germany.

"May I get srough, sir?" he asked.

"_Nein_!" Germany gasped. "She'll get in!"

"Whom vould sis be?"

"Belarus!"

"WHOA! Good luck with sat one!" in a moment of pure terror, the young soldier darted to the other side of the bathroom and squeezed himself through the small window and ran off. She was even feared by the soldiers. Belarus banged on the door fiercely, eventually resorting to throwing her full weight against it. she insisted over and over again that Germany surrender and give himself to her. The harder she slammed against the door, the more it gave out. Eventually, she did succeed, and Germany ran as fast as he could from her.

"Don't you look handsome in your uniform, my love," she said in an eerie voice.

"Stay away..." Germany fumbled for his gun.

"We must become one!" Belarus ran to him.

Germany yelped, jumped, and struggled through the window. Once he got through, he ran in any direction. Unfortunately, Belarus climbed through with ease and chased after him. He ran to a city known as a hot spot for German soldiers and ordered them to grab Belarus, who was not far behind. They caught her and they hauled her off to a jail nearby. She clawed at him, trying to explain that she and Germany were lovers and that they were just playing a game of tag.

"Not-true!" Germany gasped.

"Don't worry, sir. We'll make sure she won't escape," a young soldier assured him. "Just go home and rest."

Instead, Germany went back to the bar, where Prussia questioned his long absence.

"Did you have to take a fat piss or vhat?"

"It was Belarus. I don't know what to do..."

With that, Prussia comforted his brother by ordering him shots.  
As for Italy's mental health, that'll be next chapter!


	6. German Bar Party

**A/N: I confess to using Google Translate in this chapter, so PLEASE forgive any mistakes made! Corrections are more than welcome!  
**

**...**

"_NEIN! NEIN! NEIN! Das ist ein befehl!"_

With every "No!" came the sound of a hand smacking onto a desk. A soldier had the misfortune of suggesting a different, less effective battle strategy to Germany, whom was still in shock of Belarus's stalking two days previously. Not to mention Italy was dodging him completely and there was training to be done. So anyone that crossed the German would only be meeting with a temperamental one. Not even Prussia or any of his jokes he'd try to lighten his brother's mood. The only ones spared of his temper were Norway and Belgium; Norway was still a young teen and he was nervous around Germany enough as it was. As for Belgium, he'd taken Austria's advice by being more of a gentleman around her instead of a raging warlord. France would make comments here and there, but would be met with a German flare of retaliation_. _It was a gamble if you ran into a drunk Germany.

"Do you understand?"

"_Jawohl_, sir!"

The young soldier sped out of his superior's office tugging at his collar, file in hand. He looked at Italy, who was just walking into the hall.

"Dear God, leave him be!" the soldier whined. "A visit from _you_ vould make him vorse!"

Before Italy could reply, the young soldier broke out into a full run, warning everyone that the Italian would soon be bothering Germany. Within seconds, the living room was deserted of people. Only a Rottweiler dog could be seen sleeping on a couch peacefully.

I was only going to comb my hair... Italy thought as he continued on his way to the restroom. He still had no desire to see his friend. Not yet.

"Italy, come here."

Said boy grew extremely tense as he heard Germany's voice. Should he risk the German's fury and ignore him, or just make things easier and listen? The latter would surely be the better choice after the last couple of days. Italy sighed, gathering himself, and stumbled into Germany's office after averting his eyes away and not paying attention to where he was walking. He sat down across from him and stared at his lap, feeling his friend's eyes on him.

"Are you alright?" Germany asked genuinely.

"Y-yeah! Never better!"

"Could you look at me sen?"

Whimpering, Italy slowly lifted his head up. Instead of just seeing Germany in his usual attire -military clothes & perfectly slicked back blonde hair- Italy saw him shirtless, dog tags hanging from his neck and his visor cap he rarely wore but decidedly only for certain occasions. Just pretty much how he'd seen him nights before doing...things.

"MISTER GERMANY, PUT ON SOME CLOTHES!" the Italian shouted, covering his eyes.

"Oooooh," Germany sighed, looking away awkwardly. "Sat's right...listen, about sat-"

Before he could finish, Italy went on a full-blown tirade that Germany could hardly understand for he was talking so fast.

"Germany, why? You aren't even married! I understand you're a bit cocky after your winning streak, but that's no means for drunken premarital relations! And what about me? I'm your friend and you're supposed to tell me these things and you didn't! Do I mean nothing anymore? And why would you even do those things? There's nothing natural ab-"

"_Stop! Stop!_" the blonde interrupted, completely beat-red in the face. "Look, I'm sorry. By no means did I want things to happen the way they did. You _are_ still my friend. It's just..."

He cut off, unsure of how to word what he was trying to say. Germany chewed at his thumb nail, thinking.

"Yeah?" Italy encouraged.

"Ah- you wouldn't understand, being a virgin..."

"It's okay, Germany, you can tell me!"

He's got to be kidding. This is just something Germany never talked about, even with his brother. Prussia had tried giving him "the talk" as a child, but after several failed attempts the albino gave up and decided to let his brother learn about the birds and the bees on his own. It was a well-known fact after Italy running his mouth that Germany was far from being into the "normal" form of...intercourse. To put it shortly, he had some strange habits and interests.

"She can entertain me in ways you can't, and I am_ not_ explaining any further!"

Of course, Italy inquired more, only to have his efforts squashed. Instead, Germany told him he'd understand eventually. After rekindling their friendship, Germany invited Italy to join him later at a local bar to celebrate the end of the week. And for another Axis victory, and the fact they managed to keep Belarus in jail for so long. He accepted happily, and bounced out of the office to tell Prussia of the great news.

"He told you and not me?" Prussia demanded. "I'm his _Bruder_! I've got some vords for him!"

With that, Prussia stamped down to his brother's office for answers. He liked partying and drinking just as much as the little Italian! Of course Prussia got his way, swaggering like a boss back into the living room to tell Italy that he'd be gracing them with his presence. He insisted that Austria join them to get some fresh hair, but the stuffy noble declined.

"I have no desire to be around a bunch of drunks," was Austria's reply.

It took every ounce of self control for Prussia not to pop off on him. They were not drunks! They just knew how to have a good time! Pride & cockiness emitting off him, Prussia marched out of the room, little Italy following him. Germany soon came after, fearing for Italy's safety without him. Everything was back to normal. The night

The bar was full of Axis soldiers, many of them far beyond drunk. They stumbled all across the floor, bumping into Germany or Italy a couple of times. Loud, German music blasted from a small radio in the corner of the bar, causing Germans to burst out slurring words as loud as they could. Beer sloshed at tables as the soldiers clanked their mugs, making Italy slip and cry when he got beer on his uniform. Prussia decided to start the night off with shots for everyone in the group. Italy could only handle one and ended up ordering and nursing on a glass of wine, while the brothers downed several shots, eventually moving on to beer. By this time, Prussia was already lying halfway on their table, watching a ceiling fan with total fascination. Germany invited a couple of waitresses over for drinks, already drunk as well. Italy instantly started flirting with one, while the other sat in Germany's lap, chatting away and laughing.

Prussia ended up crawling (he couldn't walk at this point) over to another table to visit with friends. Soon he was on top of the table, hanging onto a friend and dancing & singing. He invited his brother, telling the entire bar he had a lovely singing voice. Usually, it took A LOT of persuasion to get Germany to do such things, but being smashed, he willingly jumped up on his own table with the fairly buzzed waitress, dragging Italy with them. The waitress he'd been flirting with stayed seated, instead choosing to cheer them on. With another shot in his system, Germany led a patriotic German sing-along.

"_Deutschland!_ _Deutschland!_ _Wir sind die besten!_" were the lyrics. Italy tried his best to keep up with the unfamiliar language, feeling a little out of place singing the song.

"Hey! Hey!" Prussia stopped everyone after a few verses. "_Der Krieg ist unserer!_"

The bar erupted joyously at his words, the bar raining alcohol.

"To _ein tausenjahrige Deutsche herrschaft!_" Germany shouted.

As the night wore on, Prussia passed out on a table, Italy remained only buzzed with his lady friend, and Germany disappeared with the other waitress. Eventually, France appeared in search of where everyone had been for so long. No one payed him any mind in their drunken stupor, but thought he was a pretty lady. When he saw Italy, he bee-lined to him.

"Eez ziz whe'e you've all been?" he shouted angrily over the noise.

"Yes! It'sa great fun!" Italy yelled back.

"Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?" a sober German soldier yelled at the back of the bar where the overnight rooms and bathrooms were. He slammed a door shut and strode back into the open area. Everyone nearby asked what the problem was.

"Germany! There's doors for a reason!" the young man spat.

"Geeve me a b'eak!" France rolled his eyes. "Come, Italy, we a'e leaving!"

With that, he grabbed Italy's arm and left the noisy bar but none too soon. Just as they left, a fight broke out and beer bottles flew in every direction, escalating to chairs. Somehow, in the midst of all this, Prussia remained untouched, snoring away with little Gilbird sitting on his chest rising and falling with his breathing.


	7. News and Hans Landa

**A/N: I'm into dark humour, so forgive me ya'll. That's just how I roll!  
**

**...**

There was a series of knocks on France's door. Still in his night clothes, he trotted down the stairs to answer. Of course he knew who it was, so the face he saw didn't surprise him. It was Germany; he donned a pair of sunglasses and was leaning against a pillar.

"I'm here to pick up Italy," the German nearly whispered.

"A'e you steel d'unk?" France demanded, picking up the stench of alcohol.

Germany shh-ed him, his loud voice hurting his ears.

"No..."

"Okay, then. P'ove eet!"

Sighing in an agitated way, Germany went to stand on his own but grabbed onto the pillar once more and he began to lose his balance. He tried again and almost made it, but the porch and France wouldn't stay still. He gripped the pillar firmly as he waited for everything to come back into focus.

"Maybe a little, but I'm not driving," Germany replied.

"You can have Italy back when you sober up," scoffed the Frenchman.

Germany whistled and two Germans dressed in leather trench coats & black uniforms appeared behind him. Fear overcame France as he whimpered; everyone knew who the German police were. They were unfriendly and far more scary than Germany himself. Said man grinned at France's reaction.

"Now vhere vere ve?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"I-Italy, Ge'many's he'e!" France was at the foot of the stairs calling up at Italy, sweating something awful. Italy came bounding down the stairs happily. The German policemen didn't bother him in the slightest as he thanked France for letting him stay and skipped out the door into the fabulous sunlight. France bade the group good day and slammed the door shut; a clicking sound told Germany he'd locked the door. He chuckled to himself and had one of the men help him walk to the car. He, one officer, and Italy sat in the back as the other officer climbed into the driver's seat and drove off. Italy watched the passing scenery from the window with interest. Germany, still quite intoxicated, went in and out of consciousness. Eventually he just passed out completely, and his head slumped onto Italy's shoulder. The latter just about burst with excitement at this. But he knew of his friend's temper all too well, so he just titled his head against Germany's.

The two officers chatted in their native language, laughing here and there and sometimes saying something in English to Italy so he wouldn't feel left out. If anything, Germany's weight against him started to become uncomfortable. He was too heavy for Italy to move, eventually forcing the Italian to ask for assistance. The German officer sitting in the back with the two helped him and let the sleeping blonde rest his head on his shoulder. When Italy asked if it was weird for him, the officer said no.

"Germans have to look out for each other," he said.

"Aaaah. You know, I never would have guessed Prussia was the older one. Germany is so much bigger than him!"

"There's a saying that younger siblings always grow up to be bigger," the German said.

Germany gave a loud sigh, and the two stopped talking. When he didn't wake, Italy patted his shoulder in a friendly way. They were quiet until they got home, where Prussia, somehow perfectly sober, bounced outside to greet them before noticing his brother was out cold. He cracked his knuckles and pulled him out of the car, knees shaking from the weight.

"We can wake him if you want-" one of the officers offered.

"Nah, I got it!" Prussia replied breathlessly. "But this sure was easier when he was a kid..."

Struggling not to lose grip, Prussia carried his brother inside, the officers leaving and Italy following the albino. Austria stopped on his way to make tea in the kitchen to watch the spectacle.

"Doesn't sis bring back memories," he teased. Prussia nodded proudly, finally exhausting his strength and setting Germany down on the nearest couch. He warned anyone passing by not to disturb him. Uncharacteristically, Germany slept most of the day away. When he finally did wake up, he zipped upstairs to shower and to put on fresh clothes. Italy greeted his friend, whom told him to get ready for training.

The Italian's enthusiasm waned.

"B-but, don't you feel sick?" he frowned.

"I feel like shit _ja_, but it's gotta get done..." Germany sighed, despite the pounding in his head.

"May I join in? Seeing as Japan's nowhere in sight."

Belgium smiled at the pair as she entered the hall.

"You vant to? Wis _us_?" Germany asked curiously.

"Think I can't keep up? Or are you scared to have a girl outdo you?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Lets step outside, shall we?" Germany kept eye contact as he started to lead the way outside. This was a challenge. Woman or not, he wasn't going to make it easy; it just wasn't in him when it came to things such as this. He never gave up or stepped down from confrontations (unless he really had to). Italy jogged to keep up the two, whom were trying to out-power walk each other as they headed down the patio steps in the backyard of Germany's dwelling.

"I was also told to tell you Belarus broke out of jail..."

"Vhat? Hey, VAIT!"

Belgium broke into a sprint, her laughter echoing behind. Germany ran after her after cursing to himself. Italy saw an opportunity to stay back as the attention was solely focused on someone else. He didn't feel like training today. Or any day for that matter. Instead, he kicked around a football, playing with one of Germany's dogs. Soon Austria came outside to sit on the patio to enjoy the sun and the small breeze that came through the air, and to toss the football back to Italy when he kicked it too far and was unwilling to go and get it himself. Sometimes Austria questioned Italy entire being. His disapproval of his becoming Germany's ally had been widely known in the house at the beginning of the war ("He's probably mass-producing white flags as we schpeak!"). Physically he was a young man, but mentally he seemed to be...four. Italy meant well, but Austria really saw no good use of him.

**...**

Germany was in full defense mode. He was in a meadow surrounded by yellow flowers, and Belgium had yet to be seen. The military brain he had, Germany scanned the area before him, slightly crouched and ready for anything that might happen with a hand hovering over his Walther pistol in his uniform jacket. The quiet bothered him; his nerves fraying with every minute that passed. There were rustling noises on his left, causing the German to jump and take out his pistol, cocking it. He approached the offending site cautiously.

Nothing.

He let out an exasperated sigh before something hit him with enough force to knock him down. Too stunned to react, Germany dropped his gun and fell onto his back. Everything spun and he could only see blurred forms as he tried to blink it all back into focus. As his heart slowed its pace and his vision settled, he saw a blonde with sparkling green eyes straddling his waist and staring down at him with a huge smile.

"I think we're alone now," Belgium said, titling her head.

"_Mein Gott_, don't do sat!" came Germany's reply. "I could've shot you!"

Belgium's shoulders slumped and she fell forward onto his chest, causing Germany to grunt from the impact. He put his arms around her and let out a sigh. When Belgium went to get up, he tightened his grip, forcing her back down. She tried again only to have his grip tighten. She groaned at her defeat and scowled.

"You're not getting up until you tell me about Belarus," his tone was playful but had a serious undertone.

"She somehow broke out of prison and they can't find her. But the Gestapo's looking all over for her. Happy?" Belgium replied.

He nodded and let go. Belgium rolled over next to him, sitting up.

"It's kind of funny-"

"She's scary," Germany interrupted.

Eventually the pair got up and walked back to the house. Italy was inside playing cards with Prussia and Austria in the living room and only waving at his friend when Germany entered. He and Belgium sat down and watched, occasionally making distracting comments to mess with them. As usual, Prussia threatened to destroy his brother if he kept his smart-mouth up and Germany pressed his brother even further. Belgium snapped at the two and they fell silent.

"Do you have any fives?" Italy asked the albino.

"Nah, go fish."

"_Landa!_"

The scariest music that Italy had ever heard in his life played. Prussia and Germany shot up, sending cards into the air. He looked between Prussia and Germany, both whom were standing stock still as the other Germans in the surrounding area were. Italy glanced over at Belgium; she was frozen in fear at the sound of heavy boots hitting the floor. With every step, the scary music got louder until the offender came into sight. It was an older man, but not too old. He wore the typical German uniform, but with a gold Iron Cross at the collar; he had many other decorations beneath his coat on his uniform jacket. He had a mocking look to him as his cold, hazel eyes swept the room. He saluted back when Germany, Prussia, and the other soldiers saluted, his leather trench coat squeaking.

This man was Detective Hans Landa. Better known by his nickname, the Jew Hunter.

**...**_  
Hans Landa...how does one begin to describe Hans Landa?_

_Germany: Hans Landa is flawless._

_Prussia: I hear his hair's insured for ten thousand Reichsmarks._

_Austria: His favorite movie is Varsity Blues._

_Belgium: I hear he does car commercials...in Japan.  
_

_Hungary:_ _One time he met The Boss on a plane, and _he _told him he was pretty._

_France: One time he punched me in the face...it was awesome!_**  
...**_  
_

"_Heil,_ Colonel," Germany stamped his heel on the floor and shook Landa's hand.

"Ah, Germany! Just who I wanted to speak to," Landa greeted him, his English significantly better than Germany's. "I was wondering if my unit was ready for the occupation of France? Excellent job by the way, couldn't have done better myself."

"Yes! I-I'll take you to them..." Germany nodded and motioned for Landa to follow. As they turned away, the scary music began playing again. Italy whined and scooted closer to Austria. Prussia and the other soldiers relaxed finally. He picked up his cards from the floor and insisted on continuing the game of Go Fish; he acted as if nothing happened. He offered Belgium to join them, and she gladly took his offer. She was still a little shaken from Hans Landa's presence, and the dangerous aura he gave off.  
He was a very scary guy afterall!_  
_


	8. Gettin' Real

**A/N: Kudos if you caught the Mean Girls reference last chapter!  
**

**...**

On Germany's advice, Belgium went out to do some sightseeing of his country. She was still startled the next day after encountering Hans Landa; Germany said he had that effect on people. She'd get used to him, he said. In a way she wasn't so sure but she accepted his attempt at comforting her. Italy just needed ice cream and he was perfectly fine! That little bastard and his care-free ways. So now she was roaming the streets of areas in Germany that weren't bombed out. They were rather nice: kids laughed and ran about as their parents looked on, restaurants played music that echoed out the doors, people were shouted out propaganda (if it was unfavorable, they disappeared within seconds), and people smiled at her as she went by. For the most part, Germans were friendly people! Nothing like the Allied media was portraying them as a whole to be. Belgium stopped by a promising-looking coffee house and was soon sitting outside at a little table with a latte. Indeed this is exactly what she needed to get over the Hans Landa encounter. She sipped her latte absent-mindedly, unaware of the dark presence nearing her.

The dark presence stopped directly in front of her. Belgium felt the bad aura and looked, unafraid. She blinked calmly as Belarus came over, breathing in a demonic way. She was just as unhinged as her brother, but possibly worse. Even with the murderous look in her eyes, Belgium wasn't in any way fazed. She just sipped her coffee.

"_He's miiine_," Belarus said in a harsh whisper.

Belgium spat out the sip of coffee she'd taken, laughing. It splashed onto the table and Belarus's dress. People walking by stared at her with curiosity. When she had finally stopped laughing, she looked at Belarus again.

"Oh, you're being _serious_," Belgium mocked. "Sorry, honey, I got this one."

Belarus growled and towered over her.

"I'll do whatever it takes to get you out of the picture. Germany will be mine!"

"Bitch please. What're you gonna do? Tell me empty threats?"

"I'll rip out your ovaries and burn them."

Finally reacting, Belgium's eyes widened a little as she gaped at the other woman. She was quite serious and with the rumour of her always carrying a knife in her apron pocket, Belgium felt a little uneasy. But if need be, she had a cup of hot latte she could use against the crazy woman. For now she glared at Belarus, whom stared daggers right back. Belgium stood up to her full height just inches away from Belarus. The other woman tensed up as she prepared for possible confrontation.

"Don't mess with _my_ man," she said, doing what some people call the 'pigeon head bob'.

With that, Belgium strutted away, heading back to Germany's house.

**...**

Italy drew on his napkin as he sat with Germany in a restaurant in Paris. After covering every inch on the one, he took Germany's napkin and drew a tic-tac-toe board on it.

"X's or O's?" Italy asked his friend happily.

"X's," Germany accepted the pen Italy handed him and X'ed out a square.

The brunette thought about what move to make, then drew an O with a "Ve~!"

"What do-a you think Japan's been up to?" he asked as Germany analyzed the napkin.

He shrugged, marking another square. "He said he's been busy vorking, so I'm not too concerned."

Several tables away, America sat with China and England. Once again he was snooping and not caring what the other two thought about his being there. All he wanted to do was mess with Germany on his day off; that was enough for England to accept his visit. For America's prank, he somehow managed to find a Jewish waiter to walk over and speak to Germany. The blonde was in a fit of giggles as he watched the man go over to Germany's table and just how uncomfortable he looked. With every moment, Germany's face turned a new shade of red and refused to make eye contact with the waiter. America burst out laughing finally when the waiter left, but what he didn't expect was for Germany to hear him and glance over. The German's facial expression was totally furious with a murderous glint in his eyes. America sank in his chair, lifting a menu to hide his face. He peered around the edge to see Germany talking to a German soldier, pointing in the direction in which the Jewish waiter had gone. The soldier nodded, alerted two more, and followed Germany's directions; his face was void of any emotion when America turned his eyes back to him.

England tried his best to comfort him with treats. That would've worked had France not come by with ominous news.

"After you a'e done, Germany would like to see you alone," he said to America. "May the Heavens have mercy on you today..."

"_Oh man_!" the younger blonde groaned.

Time went by faster than America would've have liked, for China and England eventually had to leave, but not without a prayer first. Italy left after Germany said something to him, and America was escorted over to Germany. He sat down stiffly and twiddled his thumbs nervously. Before he knew it, he was shouting unintelligible apologies at Germany.

"Are...you done?" Germany sat a little further away from the table. America was short of breath so he chose to nod in response.

He waited for Germany to talk.

"First of all, sat prank vasn't your best."

"What are they going to do with him?" America questioned.

"None of your business," Germany replied sharply. "Vhy are you here anyvay?"

"C-curious..."

The German nodded, sitting back against his chair. Americans were always curious about European affairs; that was the annoying thing about them.

"Maybe you should mind yourself. It'll get you into trouble one day."

"So...you're not going to...kill me?" America struggled.

"Haha! No, not sis time," Germany smirked.

That had to be the scariest thing America had seen in his life. It wasn't a 'JK' smirk, it was a "I'm not kidding' smirk. When he was able, America bee-lined out of the restaurant making Germany feel like a boss.

**...**

They weren't really a couple, right?  
When she finally got home, Belgium had began to mull things over. In that moment of cattiness, she'd pretty much told Belarus that she and Germany were together. Unless you count the flirting and kinky, drunken sex there really no other signs of them actually being a couple. She went to Austria for advice; he was the only person in the house she trusted. Plus he'd been married to Hungary for a while so he had some experience with this kind of thing.

"Ask him about it," Austria offered. "You never know. Sere might be somesing between you."

_Ask him about it_. That was easier said than done.


	9. DTR

**...**

Belgium _would've_ asked Germany about their relationship the day after Austria had given her advice, but she didn't want to look stupid. She just left things the way they were and continued about her business. But then again, she really _didn't_ have the time to determine their relationship for Japan had showed up that morning looking quite nervous. Italy, Belgium, and Prussia hid outside of Germany's office door to eavesdrop on the conversation. Japan spoke too quietly for them to hear so they inched closer, opening the door's gap a tad.

"Can you repeat sat?" they heard Germany say.

"I-I," stammered Japan. "I'm afraid that I have awoken the Sreeping Giant..."

"_Meaning_?" Germany asked in a dangerous voice.

The three sitting behind the door looked at each other. Only one other country hadn't joined the war yet, and that was-

"America's joining the-"

Japan was cut off by the sound of heavy wood falling over: Germany had flipped his desk. There were no other signs of his disapproval, but the trio quickly dispersed when they heard foot steps coming to the door. The blonde showed no interest in anything around him and continued down the hall to a door. It led to his basement; no one was allowed down there. Not that anyone _wanted_ to go down there to begin with. A very ominous air would come from it when Germany unlocked the door and opened it, so anyone at the end of the hall would tear out of the area. Once or twice Prussia had gone into the basement, but always said he saw nothing or didn't look around when people asked him about it. Belgium knew better though; she'd seen the look in his eyes that told her plainly he knew more than what he was letting on.

Seconds after Germany disappeared into the basement, Japan emerged from the office. He looked just as shaken up as he had been earlier. He saw the three at the entrance of the hallway, stopped and bowed slightly.

"Sorry for any inconvenience I may have posed," he sighed. "I hope you are wer?"

"_Alles ist gute_, bro. How 'bout you?" Prussia grinned.

"Same. I shar be back," Japan said before bowing once more and leaving the room briskly.

The rest of the day went normally, aside from Germany still being in the basement. He eventually emerged but acted as if nothing happened. He confirmed America's coming involvement when asked and that was all he'd say on the matter.

"Germany, I think I broke my car," Italy told him sadly when Germany sat down on in the living room.

"Let's go look," the blonde stood back up with Italy and walked out.

He tapped Belgium's shoulder as he strode out and caused her to jump and drop her book. Prussia laughed at her clumsiness and pranced out of the room to get a beer. It was just her and the ever-silent Austria. Germany had about half of Europe in his power, yet the place was always so empty, save for someone walking in or out with a quick "Hello" before they disappeared. They were all probably busy, or just didn't want to get on Germany's bad side. She pursed her lips as she thought about it.

"You haven't talked to him yet, have you?" Austria said suddenly.

"Well, no..." Belgium replied. "I don't want to look stupid! And besides, it's not that big of a deal..."

"If you say so. But wis Belarus hanging about, she just might-"

Belgium was out the door before he had the chance to finish. Looking stupid or not, she wasn't about to let Belarus win. It'd be a cold day in Hell before she got Germany!

Germany was pretty much scolding Italy in the huge garage as she came closer. Italy was cowering and shrieking numerous excuses that Belgium couldn't understand for he was talking so fast. Somehow Germany did, and he grew more and more frustrated with the young Italian.

"Look, I can fix the transmission, but I can't do it by the end of the day! Cancel your date and find the blueprints so I can get started! Yes, _now_!"

Italy whined the entire time he shuffled back up to the house, totally bypassing Belgium. Germany sighed and scratched his head as he looked under the hood of Italy's car. When he saw Belgium stopping shortly by him, he gave her a "What can you do?" smile. The sad Italian came back shortly with his car's blueprints, translating everything for his friend. After Germany fetched his tools and set to work, Italy requested that he visit his brother since he couldn't go on his date.

"Go ahead, but have Austria take you," Germany agreed. Prussia was second to Italy with reckless driving.

"Okay! I'll be back later! _Ciao_!" with that, Italy bounced back to the house to get Austria.

Now Belgium was all alone with Germany.

"You can go back to the house if you want to," he told her politely.

She declined and insisted that she wanted to watch him work on the car. She sat down on a bench with a grin to prove her point. Belgium really did want to watch, for after a while he had to take off his dress shirt that he wore underneath his jacket, revealing a thin tank top that he wore under that; his muscles were on full display. She kept her pokerface in check, but she was spazzing out mentally. But then he started sweating and getting grease on his hands, arms, chest. It took everything in Belgium not burst out with a fangirlish scream. Despite the cold from the snow outside (Belgium had noticed the German winter just now), it felt hot.

"Are you okay?"

To her surprise, Germany had stopped working and was looking over at her in concern. Parts of his normally perfect, slicked back hair had fallen onto his face from sweating.

"Y-yeah, just great," she ran a hand through her hair, embarrassed.

"Sure? You're kind of fidgety over there..."

She nodded, flipping all of her hair onto one shoulder. It helped cool her off some. She moved to a cooler spot on the bench and gave him a shy smile. Germany stared for a few seconds before shaking his head and zoning in back on the car. Belgium needed to distract herself before she had another embarrassing moment; she looked around the spacious carport. It was just as clean as the house, and there were German propaganda posters on the wall, as well as news articles and pin-up pictures. And the flag the Germans had at the time, the one that so many were intimidated by. She found it uneasy to look at and thankfully spotted a swiveling chair. And it doesn't matter how old you are, swiveling chairs are _fun as hell_. Belgium almost skipped over to the chair and immediately began to swivel around in the open areas. She giggled to herself, too wrapped up in her fun to noticed that Germany had stopped working on the car again to watch her.

"Vhile you're over sere, could you hand me sat light please?"

Even when she was trying _not_ to embarrass herself, she did. Blushing, she glanced at Germany, who was smirking at her. She turned away, found the light he asked for, and pushed off toward him. What she didn't realize was that he'd knelt down to get something and ran right into him. He didn't fall over; Germany was far too macho to let some damn chair knock him over. Instead, she fell halfway into his lap. She wanted to get up, but couldn't, or didn't want to. The smell of car grease and sweat held her there in an almost hypnotizing way. She grabbed his face and kissed him before any real rational thought was able to form. He kissed her back, but she pulled away just before things went too far.

"Wait a second!" she struggled out of his lap and back into the chair, swiveling away a couple of inches.

"Vhat seh hell is wrong wis you today?" Germany demanded.

"Are we _together_?" Belgium blurted out.

"...do you vant to be?"

Germany was looking away, blushing a little. It was the strangest thing, seeing him vulnerable. She wasn't sure what to say now; Belgium didn't expect to get this far in her quest. Maybe she should forget it...

_But wis Belarus hanging about, she just might-_

"Y-yes, I'd really like that," Belgium played with her hair nervously.

"Me too," he smiled at her. He got to his feet, picking up a rag to clean himself off. Belgium threw herself from the chair and into Germany, locking lips. Now that they were official, she could ravish him in his sweaty and greasy state. He didn't seem to mind, kissing back just as fiercely as she was.

A short while later the pair were heading back up to the house. At the corner of her eye, Belgium saw Belarus watching them from behind a bush. She put her arm tighter around Germany's waist with an evil grin.

_You lose._

The only thing was, Belarus wasn't going to give up so easily!


End file.
